Anna’s heart leapt wildly as Graeme’s mouth claimed hers.

This was not the sweet, playful brush of lips that he used when he was trying to coax a shy smile from her. Nor was it the sad, slow kiss they shared whenever they knew they were saying goodbye for an indefinite number of sennights or months.

Nay, this kiss was like naught Anna had ever experienced before. It was edged with urgency and laced with lust. Judging from the taut rigidness of Graeme’s body, he was barely managing to hold his raw power in check as his tongue swept inside her mouth. She yielded to him—to this moment—completely, unable to fight the wave of longing that flooded her.

His hand fisted in the material at the back of her dress, holding her flush against the hard wall of his chest. The scruff on his chin rasped along her skin, but the scrape only heightened her spiraling senses. Through the blood roaring in her ears, she heard him groan desperately. An echoing moan rose in her throat.

Graeme. It had always been Graeme, and it would always be Graeme, no matter who or what came after him. What they shared was too powerful to be ignored, snuffed out, overridden, or forgotten. It was their hearts’ destiny to remain locked in this embrace forever.

Graeme pulled back, his breath ragged and his eyes clouded with need as he stared down at her.

But then his blond brows dropped sharply, and his gaze drifted to the forest floor off to the side.

“Ye said, when yer father arranged…” he murmured, repeating her words.

He jerked the two missives, which he still held in one hand, up in front of his gaze, flipping between the two.

“I wrote this missive on the tenth of May, when my fever finally broke and the putrescence had been removed from the flesh surrounding the wound,” he said. He pointed to the date scrawled in the corner of the parchment. “I made sure to note the date, for it felt like a second birth to have survived.”

She nodded, but felt her brow furrow in uncertainty. “Aye. I received it on the sixteenth. The Bruce’s messenger told me he’d traveled with all haste, for he said ye were considered a hero around the Bruce’s camp after Berwick,” she replied. “He wanted to make sure that yer missive was delivered promptly and directly into my hands.”

“And yer missive is dated the seventeenth,” Graeme went on, flipping back to the other sheet of parchment. “The verra next day.”

“Aye,” Anna said again, her confusion deepening. “I wrote it as soon as I could see through my tears. My father informed me the same day yer missive arrived that he would speak to Laird Munro about a marriage alliance.”

He reached out and clasped her hand in his, holding her gaze. His eyes were filled with a sudden urgency that made her pulse quicken. “This is verra important, Anna, so I would ask ye to consider before ye speak and be certain of yer answer.”

She nodded. “What is it?”

“Had yer father already contacted Laird Munro about a marriage alliance before the seventeenth of May?”

As he requested, she thought carefully, but she knew the answer without a doubt. “Nay.”

“How can ye be sure?” he prodded, still holding her hand tight. “Mayhap he sent word by way of the King’s messenger on the sixteenth when ye received my missive.”

“Nay,” she repeated, shaking her head firmly. “He didnae. I watched the King’s messenger leave empty-handed that day. My father then came to tell me that he would seek an arranged marriage for me with Laird Munro, hoping that I might find the match agreeable. When I burst into tears at the idea, he asked what was wrong, and I told him of yer proposal. That was when he said I shouldnae respond to ye, for it would only draw out the anguish for both of us.”

Anna dragged in a deep breath against the painful memories. “I went against his wishes, though. I wrote to ye the next morning. I learned that my father’s own personal messenger was preparing to leave for Munro land to deliver a missive opening negotiations for my marriage to the Laird. I tried to slip my response to ye in with my father’s missive, but the messenger informed me that he’d been ordered no’ to deliver any letters from me to ye.”

“So ye kept yer missive,” Graeme finished. “And the messenger departed, no doubt delivering the proposal to Laird Munro a day or two later.”

“Aye,” Anna said. “But what is this all about? Why does any of it matter?” It pained her to ask, but she couldn’t deny reality. She was engaged to Laird Munro now, and her love for Graeme didn’t change that.

“Dinnae ye see, lass?” Graeme said, his eyes lighting with green fire. “I asked ye to marry me, and ye accepted. We have the dates to prove it right here.” He held up the two missives.

“What are ye saying?” Anna asked slowly.

“That these missives attest to the fact that ye were already engaged when yer father sought to arrange a union with Laird Munro.”

He squeezed her hand, an awed smile widening his mouth. “Ye cannae enter into a new engagement when a previous one still stands. Which means ye willnae marry Laird Munro.”

Graeme stood suddenly, his leg hardly slowing him down. He pulled her to her feet, holding her gaze. “Ye willnae marry him,” he repeated, his voice growing stronger. “For we will be married instead.”

Anna felt her mouth fall open. Her heart sang in her chest. Was it true? Was it possible?

Aye, she’d agreed to marry Graeme before the arrangements had been made with Laird Munro. In the eyes of the church, she could not be engaged to two different men at the same time, and the first of the two engagements always took precedence—which meant that the second was void.

Though she hadn’t been able to say aye to Graeme in person, it now appeared to be far better that they had their pledges to each other in writing—with dates—for it wouldn’t just be their word against her father’s or Laird Munro’s. They had proof.

“Wh-what…what do we do now?” she gasped, staring at Graeme.

His brows drew together in anxious concentration. “We need to get to a priest before any of this can be undone,” he said, his eyes scanning the forest floor in thought as he ruffled the missives gently.

Then he lifted his gaze, locking it with hers. “And then we’ll wed before anyone can stop us.”